Day 63

We rented the ATV – Benjamin was the most excited I’ve seen him here. I worked in the morning while Amy Lane and Ben went to Arturo and Anna Marie’s house in Rincon – the town, not the beach. I took a gua-gua and walked down Calle Rincon – about 3 kilometers – to their home, a bright blue Dominican house on a hill. When I got there I was met by an older woman who spoke no English but made it clear that my family was in the back of the house. I went back there to find them with Arturo, who was making plantains on a Dominican outdoor stove – a clay stove with an open top. Even though it was only 10:30 in the morning, and we were adamant about not being hungry, and Arturo had other demands on his time – he was going to work in an hour or two, and Anna Marie had been sick for several days and was laying in bed inside – he insisted we eat. We visited with Anna Marie first. She complained of a headache, stomach pain, and had an infection of some sort in her armpit. It didn’t seem like much, but we had heard she had been sick for a couple weeks, and Arturo told us she had been to a Doctor in Nagua once, and was going to return. She didn’t look so good, but talked with us for 15 minutes, with her mother – the woman who had greeted me – keeping up a side commentary next to the bed, which Anna Marie would hush when the mother's voice seemed to rise emotionally.

Arturo served us the plantains, topped with cheese, and then another older woman appeared, bringing rice and beans and some sort of fish dish – a bowl of fish chunks in a sauce. We ate while chickens and a young cat walked around the table and excused ourselves to leave, but then Arturo said we didn’t have to rush, and he would like to talk with us. We talked while Arturo ate, then he showed us his garden – pineapple bushes, banana trees, and several exotic fruit trees and bushes that we didn’t know and wouldn’t remember. Then we went into the front yard, where Anna Marie and several older women who introduced themselves as grandmothers were seated under a tree. We sat, as a neighbor (Sonya, who we know from a store in town) and children joined us. Arturo showed me a family scrapbook which had a variety of family member and friends’ photos. Among the notable photos were two of Arturo’s father in his coffin, which Arturo showed me as if they were photos of everyday family gatherings.

We finally headed out for Playa Colorado, another of the beaches around here, and one we hadn’t experienced. It was a series of back roads, mostly dirt and hilly, ending in a failed development – there was a guardhouse and a guard, and only three houses built along a beautiful beach. The guard told us we had to leave our 4-wheeler at the gate, and could walk in. The beach was one of the cleaner beaches here- mostly sand and no coral or grass in the water – but the waves were intense, with a strong undertow, and Benjamin got flipped by a wave and lost his taste for this beach. The community had a ghost town feeling to it – the walkways all had electric lamps on them, despite no sign of life other than the three grand finished houses and a couple unfinished houses.
From there we headed back to town, using some back dirt roads we had been told about. It is interesting to see and learn of the many communities in this region that exist off the mapped roads – many dirt roads, shacks and communities that you wouldn’t even expect until you happen upon them or the back road that looks like a path at first glance.

That night we went to Playa Galeras for dinner, expecting to take part in some of the Semana Santa activities. The playa had emptied, however, and it seemed that many Dominicans leave the beach at sundown, since there isn’t any electricity on the beach. We found a shack run by one of the kiosk women, and had dinner there, while Lane played checkers with one of the kids there. Semana Santa has been much calmer than we had been led to believe – the noise hasn’t been overwhelming, the streets, while a bit crazier than usual, have not been overrun, and it has been a typical weekend, although the beaches are VERY crowded, for us. There also seems to have been some oversight by Dominicans, though we’re not sure if this is on the government’s behalf or local concerned citizenry. There have been groups of orange t-shirt clad people at the major turns to the beaches. There are people with red crosses on their shirts, and a red cross booth, at the playa. Arturo told us they are cracking down on loud music at Playa Rincon, ticketing people who are playing music. We have met several people attending who are Dominicans from the US – specifically Miami or New York – so there may be a case of trying to look good for the more sophisticated Dominicans in attendance.

The last few nights (and days) have become hot and sticky. I have not slept well as, even though we have mosquito netting on our bed, a lone mosquito makes it inside the protection and finds my ear, sounding like a B-54 and waking me up, after which I spend the next ½ hour walking on the bed, searching the netting looking for the obnoxious insect.

On Saturday of Semana Santa, Amy and Lane tried to sell smoothies (“batita’s,” fruit drinks) from Gri-gri’s restaurant. As Amy put it, it was reminiscent of the Sobo - a bookstore (coffee shop she opened in our small Maine town) days – a slow day with few customers, other than the regulars who knew Amy. Later in the day a handful of Americans came in who knew what smoothies were, and bought enough to let Amy (and Gri-gri, the Dominican owner) know that they would sell, given the proper education.

We went to La Ranchetta for dinner. We’ve been meaning to go there since we got here, but it is outside of town, and dinner is later than we usually eat, so it would be hard for us to attend with any regularity. Still, it is a special place – it is far enough outside of town to be very quiet, and the garden encloses the eating area to make you feel that you could be in any exotic local you wished. Also, I want to marry Ronald and Karyn. They are the Belgians that have given me a lifelong illogical respect of Belgians. We heard Ron’s story last night – he had managed a supermarket chain in Belgium for 16 years and grew tired of it. Karyn had sold luxury underwear before coming here and deciding to raise horses. Ronald takes care of the animal feeding, food preparation, and construction and maintenance, while Karyn takes groups for excursions and works with the whalewatches in Samana. Their respect for, knowledge, and care of their animals and the neighborhood have impressed me deeply.

Recently, Valcienne - a Haitian man who has a daughter, Francesca, who plays with and is the same age as Benjamin – asked Amy if she thinks we “valued” Benjamin as much as we do Lane. (This was in Spanish, so the translation might be off.)

Valcienne is watching a house near Playita Beach, the best looking walkable beach here, about 15 minutes if the gate is open, 1 hour if it’s locked. One day Valcienne was here with Francesca and told us how much he wanted to get a visa for the U.S. He has told us several times, in almost the same words, about wanting a visa for the U.S. Amy tried to tell him the U.S. wasn’t as great as he thought it was, that there would be many problems for a non-english speaking immigrant, and he had a good life here. He told her he barely made enough to eat, and that a friend of his went to Miami and picked fruit for 3 years, making $15,000 and enabling him to build a home in Haiti. He said all he wanted was to get to the U.S. for 3-4 years, alone, to make enough to build his own house back here or in Haiti. Amy didn’t get it – she continued to try to convince him how good the life was here.